Escape
by Toria
Summary: What if Troy had fallen quickly? And what if Paris had managed to get himself and his two younger sisters out alive? What would happen to them then?
1. Chapter 1

A/n and disclaimer – ok, this is movie verse, since I can't find a copy of the Iliad anywhere and my parents refuse to buy me a copy or let me order it of Amazon. I know that Paris had sisters, and that one was Cassandra, so she is obviously not mine. Vashti and Melitta are mine however. As is Hanno. Nothing else belongs to me. I have also played about with ages here, since I'm not altogether sure how old Paris was during the battle for Troy, but I wanted him to be quite young. Anwya, on with chapter one.  
  
Chapter 1  
  
Yelling, people panicking everywhere. How Troy had been breached, Paris didn't know. He didn't stop to think. Shoving things into a bag, he shouldered it quickly and ran. He needed to find Helen and get out. And now. Somewhere he could hear Hector shouting orders. He hoped his brother had enough common sense to get out. And to get his wife a child out. Troy was going to burn this night, that much Paris knew.  
  
Racing along a corridor Paris heard Vashti and Melitta, his younger sisters, crying. He skidded to a stop and entered their room. He sighed in relief when he realised that Vashti, the older of the two, had got them both into travel clothes. "Come quickly!" Paris ordered them both, taking them by the hands. "Put you're hoods up, we must not be recognised." Neither was crying now, they both recognised the seriousness of the situation. Paris felt a pang in his heart when he realised he would have to abandon Helen. He could only hope that he could get his sister's to safety and then come back for Helen. He didn't know where his older sister, Cassandra, was either. He sent a quick prayer to the gods to keep her safe, along with Hector, Andromache, Astyanax, his father, Briseis, Hanno and, of course, Helen. He hoped that someday he would see them all again. Hopefully in this life, and not the next  
  
Paris knew that he was going to have to take the risk of trying to sneak out the main gate. Hopefully it wouldn't be too heavily guarded and they'd be able to sneak out. Paris heaved a quick sigh of relief when he realised that the Greeks had left the gate open and unguarded. At his sides, Vashti and Melitta were silent. No doubt they were impossibly scared, Vashti being eight and Melitta only five. Paris was glad he had been able to get them out.  
  
Once on the beach, Paris picked up Melitta and urged Vashti into a run. He stuck to the shadows of the walls of Troy, following them, away from the gate and out towards the countryside. The journey was going to be a hard one, especially on foot, and Paris hoped that Vashti and Melitta could make it. With her head on his shoulder, Paris heard Melitta give a small sob. "Shush," he comforted her. He crouched down and pulled Vashti close as well.  
  
"Will we ever see Troy again?" Vashti questioned Paris, her eyes wet with tears as she gazed up at the walls of Troy above her.  
  
"I don't know," Paris answered, carefully keeping all emotion out of his voice. "I can only hope that someday we will. But I do know this, Troy will always be in our hearts and minds." Paris too turned his gaze to the walls of Troy. "Troy will always be our home. But for now, we must leave." Paris knew that they weren't out of danger yet, and he knew that he would be missed soon.  
  
"Where are we to go?" Vashti asked.  
  
"We must follow the wall until the sea is out of sight and then head on toward the river and Mount Ida. From there we can have a strategy meeting," Paris said. He glanced down at Vashti and gave her hand a comforting squeeze. "Whatever you do," he told her, "stay close to me and I'll keep you safe. Keep hold of my hand. Soon it'll be completely dark, there will be no moon tonight and we cannot stop until we reach the river." Melitta was already asleep on his shoulder and Paris knew that this was going to be a long night for him and Vashti, but he didn't know if he had the energy to carry Vashti as well as Melitta.  
  
They walked in the shadow of the wall for about another hour. Vashti was going slow, but Paris made no attempt to hurry her. He was pretty certain they weren't being followed, yet. The night was completely dark when Paris led Vashti away from the walls of Troy, the Aegean having passed from sight. Setting their course towards the river, Paris bent and picked up Vashti so that he was carrying her as well as Melitta. "I don't know how long I'll be able to carry you for," he whispered in her ear, "but take a little rest now." Vashti did and lay her head on Paris' other shoulder and quickly fell asleep, leaving Paris to struggle on. All his effort went into putting one foot in front of the other. At least being tired stopped him from thinking, he did not want to even to try and imagine what was happening back in Troy. And he didn't want to think or even wonder about what was happening to the rest of his family. He was pretty certain that Briseis, his favourite cousin, had been killed when the Greeks had first invaded, and that her body was still lying somewhere in the Temple of Apollo, down near the sea front. Hanno, her older brother and his other cousin, had no doubt avenged her during the siege, and Paris hoped that he had survived. Paris could not imagine life without him; it was hard enough with Briseis gone.  
  
And Cassie... she was closer to Hector, Briseis and Vashti than she was to him, but she was still his older sister. He didn't know if she could handle a life of slavery, but he didn't think she could. She would not even marry, comparing it to slavery.  
  
And Hector... his protector, the one he always ran to. The one he could depend on. He had a family of his own now, with Andromache and little Astyanax. A lump formed in his throat, as he thought about his little nephew and how he would never see troy in all of her glory. If he survived at all, that is.  
  
And his father. He was a good king and Paris knew that he had greatly wronged his father when he had brought Helen to Troy. He and hector were the most honourable men Paris knew, with Hanno not far behind. Paris knew that he would never, ever be anything near as good or honourable as them and why they put up with him and all the scrapes he got himself, and Troy, into was beyond him.  
  
As he walked along, with a little sister asleep on each shoulder, seventeen- year-old Prince Paris of Troy cried for the country he knew had fallen and for the family members he didn't know if he would see again.  
  
Reaching the riverbank, Paris sank to the floor, careful not to wake either Vashti or Melitta. He shrugged off his bag and used it as a pillow, while letting Vashti and Melitta use him as a pillow. He knew it was unsafe to sleep without someone keeping watch in the wild, but he had no choice. He couldn't keep his eyes open anymore and he finally fell asleep after what felt like the longest night of his life.  
  
The next thing Paris was aware of was sunlight penetrating underneath his eyelids and he opened his eyes to find himself laying on the riverbank with Vashti and Melitta still asleep. He gently shook them awake and they sat up groggily as the events of last night came to them slowly. Both looked at him, letting him decide the next move. He stood up and stretched and looked back at them. "Let's get cleaned up before we do anything else," he said as he took off his cloak. Vashti and Melitta followed suit and the three cleaned their hands and faces in the river. Paris then opened his bag. In it he had some biscuits, that standard type which the army had when it was on the move. They weren't very tasty but they were food and they kept for a long time. They each had a biscuit and Paris also had a flask of water with him, which they all drank from and Paris refilled from the river.  
  
Then they were ready for a day of walking. The first day for Vashti and Melitta outside of the protection of the walls of Troy. They going was tough, since the sun was hot of their heads and shoulders and Paris made them all wear their cloaks during the hottest part of the day, so that they didn't get burnt. They stuck close to the riverbank, so water wasn't a problem, but Paris did not know how long they could survive on biscuits. He also had a few slabs of chocolate in his bag, which he hadn't told his sisters about, they would only be ate in an emergency, when they needed the energy.  
  
Vashti and Melitta were silent, both extremely scared. Melitta was very close to Paris and trusted him completely. But, even though she was only five, she knew that what was happening was very serious. She didn't know, however, that it was a matter of life and death. Vashti was not as close to Paris as Melitta, but still trusted him completely. Behind the walls of Troy, Vashti and Melitta had led very sheltered lives. Paris' had also been quite sheltered, but he knew enough to be able to survive in the and he knew how to fight. He had the sword of Troy with him, but he had left his bow behind, despite that being his better skill – it was too awkward to carry. He did have his slingshot though. He could hunt, but lighting a fire would be a problem and it would also attract attention. Attention was something he wanted to avoid. He didn't know yet what they were going to do after they reached Mount Ida. There was a village on the other side but it would be an obvious place to look for him. And no doubt Agamemnon and Menelaus were looking for him everywhere.  
  
Please, please, please review! 


	2. Chapter 2

_Me_ – thanks! And you should see the movie! It's great!  
  
_Snowangel_ – Thanks. I'm glad you think so.  
  
_Loyalreader_ – I have! And thank you, as well!  
  
**Chapter 2**  
  
He held them close, even in his sleep. He had wrapped their cloaks tightly around them; it was cold in the shade of the mountain, which they had reached in the middle of the night, although he had had to carry them both again. He still had his rucksack on his back, beneath his cloak, with his sword beneath his rucksack. He could not let anything happen to the sword. He had been stupid to bring it in a way, but he couldn't have left it behind, so he had done the only other thing he could, he had took it with him when he fled Troy. Troy, his home, and the one place he didn't want to think of. It was no doubt burnt to the ground, with Agamemnon and Menelaus in control.  
  
Paris woke suddenly, when something made contact with his head. That something was a foot and when Paris realised this, his heart jumped into his throat. Had Agamemnon and Menelaus sent soldiers after him? And what of Vashti and Melitta? He realised that he couldn't fight his way out, so it would be best to pretend he was unarmed and protect the sword of Troy.  
  
"Up!" he was ordered. He obeyed and woke Vashti and Melitta and dragged them to their feet as well. "Names?" he was then asked.  
  
Paris thought quickly. He couldn't give their real names, he would be recognised instantly and there was then a high chance that Vashti and Melitta would be as well. "Philemon, Voletta and Melody," he answered, hoping that Vashti and Melitta would catch on. He had quickly thought of names that began with the same letters as their own, so this didn't get anymore confusing than it had to be. Paris glanced at the man, up and down, quickly measuring him up. He didn't know whether to be relieved or scared that he appeared to be a slave trader. On one hand it meant that he would probably escape with his life, which he was pretty certain wouldn't happen if Menelaus' soldiers had caught him. On the other hand, he could be separated from Vashti and Melitta, and that was something he certainly didn't want. He felt Melitta slip her hand into his, he knew she was scared. These past two days had been a living nightmare for both her and Vashti, and it hadn't been much better for him.  
  
"Come on, move!" they were ordered and Paris decided that they had no choice but to obey, until he could think of a way out of the situation. So with his hand still in Melitta's he set off in the direction the man had gestured in and took Vashti's hand in his as well. "So, I suppose you want to know what's going to happen to the three of you now?" the man asked. Paris didn't answer. He squeezed Vashti and Melitta's hands to let them know that they weren't to answer either. "Well, you three are going to be sold as slaves, you're young and look healthy, you'll fetch a fine price," the man went on to say, not caring that he hadn't got an answer. "How old are you anyway?" the man asked, and made it clear that he wanted an answer.  
  
"I'm twenty, Voletta is ten and melody is eight," Paris lied, making them all older than they were. If the man found out that Melitta was only five he might decide that she was too weak and kill her there and then. That was something he could not risk. That was the only reason why he hadn't fought this man, in case Vashti or Melitta got hurt. His sister's had to come first.  
  
An hour later they were walking along the river bank, heading back towards Troy, although Paris was willing to bet that they would follow the river past Troy and then head towards one of the bays past Troy to be shipped off as slaves to the gods knew where. Paris had to think of a way to get himself, Vashti and Melitta out of this, but at the moment his mind was blank. The day was starting to warm up and he; Vashti and Melitta still wore their cloaks. Paris knew that he had to keep his on; it hid his rucksack and the sword of Troy. He gripped Vashti and Melitta's hands tighter and continued walking, still desperately trying to think of a way out of this mess. Mind you, Paris hadn't known what he was going to do today anyway, but being captured to be sold, as a slave was not part of the plan. But for now, Paris knew that he couldn't do anything and he had to hope that he, as well as Vashti and Melitta, could survive slavery.  
  
Presently, they came to a small camp set up on the river bank, the slavers must have got there after Paris, Melitta and Vashti had passed by yesterday. The one who had caught them had probably walked all night, looking for travellers, or anyone he could capture to sell as a slave. Paris was willing to bet though that he didn't know that he had captured a prince and two princesses of Troy. "Isidor! Why are those slaves not tied up?" someone demanded of the man who had captured Paris, Vashti and Melitta.  
  
"They are young, Thaddeus, they will obey," Isidor, the man who had captured them, answered.  
  
"They are young, yes, but that means that they are more likely to escape," Thaddeus said and Paris guessed that he was the head slaver. Thaddeus carried a length of rope over to were Paris, Vashti and Melitta stood and roughly pulled Melitta's hand from Paris', binding her hands in front of her. Paris left loose of Vashti's hand before it could be ripped from his grip and made no sound or movement as Thaddeus bound his hands in front of him. Paris could see that Melitta's eyes were full of tears and he silently willed her to be strong. "Now go and sit over there with the others and don't make any fuss," Thaddeus ordered them and gave Vashti a rough shove in the direction of some other slaves sitting close together on the ground. Vashti almost fell from the shove since she didn't have the use of her arms to balance herself, but she caught herself just in time. It was all Paris could do not to say anything or glare at Thaddeus and instead he made his way over to were the other slaves were sitting, dropping to the ground gracefully. Vashti and Melitta stuck close by him. Even though their hands were bound, Paris still managed to hold both of their hands, so that all three of them had their hands in his lap. "Are you ok?" he whispered to them quietly, so as not to be heard. A few of the other slaves were talking, but Paris didn't want to push his look. Vashti and Melitta both just nodded and soon they were leaning on him and he told them to sleep while they could.  
  
Paris took this time to look around at the other slaves. None of them were wearing clothes traditionally made in Troy, so he guessed that none of them were fellow Trojans. He couldn't help but wonder whether any of his fellow Trojans had survived the war with the Greeks that he had started.

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_Please, please, please review!_


	3. Chapter 3

_ellegirl104 _- the plot is starting to move along now, thanks for the review!  
  
_aroswein_ – Yeah, they're aren't to many stories which portray Paris as good, but well, it's not really all that surprising I suppose. But in this story Paris is good because I wanted a change from all of the Paris- bashing! Thanks for the review!  
  
_Lady Discord_ – updated! And I'm glad you like it!  
  
_Apollonia_ – Thanks for the advice, I'll see what I can do!  
  
**Chapter 3  
**  
He dropped to the ground wearily, beyond exhausted. Sweat stuck his hair to his brow and all he wanted to do was curl up and sleep. But he couldn't, not yet. He had to check that they were ok and safe. He hated the fact that he had been separated from them today, but he couldn't do anything about it. At least they had been allowed to stay together; he would have been worried sick if they had been separated from each other, as well as him.  
  
If Paris was exhausted, then he didn't know what Vashti and Melitta were. They were practically asleep on their feet and although their hands were still bound, they had managed to hold hands with each other all day long. Paris, Vashti and Melitta were the youngest slaves in this group, and with Paris being a young man he was forced to carry much of the stuck, which was an extra weight since he still had his rucksack and the sword of Troy hidden under his cloak. The slavers weren't very good really, Paris thought, they simply assumed that since Paris hadn't put up a fight that he was unarmed. They hadn't bothered to search him or anything.  
  
Paris looked around the camp for Vashti and Melitta and his eyes finally found them at the other side of the camp. He knew then that he wouldn't be able to see them, talk to them or comfort them that night. The slavers seemed to want them to be split up, but Paris didn't know why. He didn't know much about slavery; he had never wanted to know much about slavery. He hadn't really ever had much contact with slavery either. Sure they had had slaves in Troy, but Paris had never had one, he had never even wanted one. And he certainly didn't want to be sold as one! He didn't want Vashti and Melitta to be sold as slaves even more. They didn't deserve any of this, and a nagging in the back of his mind and his heart told him that it was his entire fault. If he had never brought Helen to Troy none of this would of happened. The whole war wouldn't of happened, troy wouldn't of fallen, Briseis would still me alive, he'd know what was happening to Hector, Andromache, Astyanax, Hanno, Cassandra and his father. And if he hadn't brought Helen to Troy, he Vashti and Melitta would not about to be sold as slaves. Maybe he deserved it though, Paris thought. It was his fault that it had happened and therefore he deserved what he got. But Vashti and Melitta did not deserve any of this. None of this had been because of them and Paris now knew that he had to do everything in his power to keep them safe. It was the least he could do for all the suffering he had brought on to his family and the people of Troy.  
  
Night was starting to fall swiftly, and Paris soon fell into a fitful sleep. They had walked all day and his muscles and feet knew it. It wasn't long before he was awake again, he was too worried about Vashti and Melitta to be able to sleep. He stared up at the night sky, with the sword of Troy pressing into his back. It was uncomfortable, but also reassuring, because it meant that he knew that it was safe. He didn't bother turning onto his side or front because his muscles would protest. Paris had thought that he had been in pretty good physical shape, but the heavy load he had had to carry all day had taken its toll on him. He was weak, really, he thought, Hector would have had no problem with the load he had had to carry today, but Paris knew that he wasn't his brother. Paris knew that he would never be as good as his brother. Paris knew that he had let his brother down, and that hurt him. Paris and Hector were close, as far as brothers went, but Paris was closer to Melitta than he was to Hector, Cassandra or Vashti. Not many people knew that the youngest two daughters of Priam existed though, and at the movement, Paris knew that that was a good thing, for safety's sake.  
  
Vashti and Melitta had never left Troy and their mother had died in childbirth with Melitta. Paris had been twelve at the time and he could still remember the night very vividly. It was a night he would never forget. With the queen dead or dying, everything had seemed too still and calm for Paris. He felt like his whole world had just crashed down around him and yet no one seemed to be panicking. He had grown up that night, and had learnt what death really was and he had known in his heart that his mother was never coming back. He had decided then and there that he would hate his new little brother or sister, since they had been the one to take his mother away. But as Melitta had started to grow up, she turned to Paris more often than not and as they spent time with each other, a strong friendship had formed, which was more than sibling love.  
  
Vashti was obviously closer in age to Melitta than she was to Paris and was closer in age to Paris than Melitta, being born in between them. Since there was only a three-year gap in between the youngest two daughters of Priam, they were very close, but not as close as Paris and Melitta. Melitta had stolen Paris' heart when she was only a few weeks old and Vashti knew that nothing was ever going to change that. She had never minded though, because she had always had a close bond with Cassandra, her older sister. Cassandra was the one she would always turn to. Vashti was also close to Andromache, Hector's wife, who was another sister to her, Cassandra, Paris and Melitta. Cassandra and Hector were also very close because out of all of Priam's children, they were the closest in age, with only thirteen months separating them.  
  
Paris continued thinking long into the night, mainly of happy times he had had in Troy. He could see Vashti and Melitta from where he lay and he kept checking on them, just to make sure that they were all right. The next thing he knew however was that he was waking up and he couldn't recall falling asleep. It was the beginning of another gurgling day for Paris, Vashti and Melitta as Thaddeus, the head slaver with this group, was a vicious man. After being given a little food they were once again walking, Paris was forced to help carry the supplies again. He was up near the front of the group, with Isidor, the man who had captured him, Vashti and Melitta, leading.  
  
Near to Paris an old man was walking along, struggling a bit to keep up with the pace Isidor was setting. Despite his hands being bound, Paris managed to get both of the man's bound hands through one of his own arms so that he could help the man along. "Thank you, young one," the man whispered. "What is your name?"  
  
"Philemon, sir," Paris whispered back, giving the fake name for himself that he had invented the day before.  
  
"There is no need to be so formal," the man told him. "I am Hippolytus." Paris smiled at the old man and the two continued to walk on in silence. With Paris' help, Hippolytus was managing ok, but Paris couldn't help but wonder who would want a slave so old. Unless Hippolytus could read and write, he wasn't going to be much use to anyone as a worker.  
  
After what seemed like an age to Paris they stopped for a break at midday. Paris lowered himself and Hippolytus to the ground gently and immediately looked around for Vashti and Melitta, barely concealing a sigh of relief when he saw that they were ok. He didn't know where they had been in the line of slaves, but he hoped that they hadn't been anywhere near Thaddeus, he didn't trust that man.  
  
Hippolytus saw him looking at Vashti and Melitta and could see it in Paris' eyes that they meant a lot to him. "Those two?" he asked Paris. "What are their names?"  
  
Paris looked at Hippolytus for a moment before answering. "Voletta and Melody," he said slowly, wondering what the old man was going on about.  
  
"Philemon, Voletta and Melody," Hippolytus mused out loud and Paris just looked at him quizzically. "Philemon meaning loving, Voletta meaning veiled and Melody being an abstract virtue name. All very pretty names..." Hippolytus looked at Paris. "Your parents choose well."  
  
"What makes you think that I have the same parents as Voletta and Melody?" he asked. A flask of water was being passed around the slaves and Paris took a gulp from it when it was his turn and then handed it to Hippolytus who had a drink and passed it on to the next slave.  
  
"I do not know if you have the same parents as the two girls, but I'll guess that similar blood runs through your veins, you have the same eyes. And you are worried for the welfare of the two girls, that much is clear," Hippolytus said wisely.  
  
Paris graced the old man with another smile, but did not say anything. He knew that he could not attract attention due to the fact that he paid so much attention to Vashti and Melitta. That would probably mean that they would be separated for longer or that they would be separated completely and they wouldn't even be on the same ship when they were shipped off to be sold. Paris told himself sternly that he would have to stop himself from checking up on his sisters so often, no matter how hard it was. Hippolytus could see the struggle going on in Paris' eyes, although the young prince had his face towards the ground and he managed to place his bound hands over Paris' bound hands.  
  
Paris didn't look up at Hippolytus but felt comforted by the fact that someone older than him was there and holding his hands. Now he knew what it must feel like for Vashti and Melitta when he had held their hands on this perilous journey so far, it gave some reassurance and Paris promised himself that he'd hold their hands whenever he could, just to let them know that he was there. Everything had changed since he had left Troy, and he was now in charge of his two sisters. Two sisters who were too young to be going through this and yet were coping marvellously in Paris' eyes. To all outward appearances they were doing fine, but inside he did not know what they were thinking, they had not had a chance to talk.  
  
Paris hoped that he would be able to talk to them tonight. He knew that from were they were sat now for the midday break while the slavers ate, if they looked towards the sea, they would be able to see troy in the distance. And he also knew that if they kept walking at the pace that they currently were, then they would reach one of the bays on the other side of Troy shortly after nightfall. Paris had a feeling that they wouldn't stop until then and then the next day they would be shipped off to the gods knew where and they'd start their lives as slaves. It was enough to make Paris weep, but he held back his sobs and tears. He could not show any weakness in front of Isidor and Thaddeus. He also could not break down and cry in front of Vashti and Melitta, he had to be strong for them, he did not want to scare them by breaking down and crying. With this thought in his mind he lifted his head again, with his mind clear and all his being focussed on getting to the ships with pride, despite the fact he was going to be sold as a slave. Hippolytus could see the tears in Paris' eyes, but also a new fierce determination and it made him wonder about the young one's past.  
  
_Please, please, please review! And what do you think of the names Vashti and Melitta? Should I change them?_


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